


Magic & Other Discussions

by jkateel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:30:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2715620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkateel/pseuds/jkateel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been so long since Dorian has had anyone to discuss magical theory (and life) with, and he has so much more to learn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic & Other Discussions

It feels like it’s been years since Dorian has had anyone to discuss magical theory with. Skyhold’s library is nothing like a Tevinter academy, but he’s learned you can have intelligence discussions even here, in the _South_. Even with the most surprising of people … though Dorian doesn’t like to think too much on _that_.

“What about veil manipulation to enhance your own barriers?” he asks Solas, leaning over the library’s railing to speak to the elf on the platform below. “Say by capturing the excess energy released by your spells and redirecting them into your barriers?”

“Hm,” Solas hums thoughtfully, not looking up from where he’s painting on the wall. Which is something Dorian never imagined: how skilled an elf can be as an artist. (But it would make sense, wouldn’t it? Someone had to build all those monuments in Tenvinter, didn’t they?) “It is possible,” Solas says, dabbing his brush into a dollop of paint. “With a spell similar to the force pull. It could capture and redirect the energy into your barrier.”

Dorian gives his own “hmm” at that, and the quirks an eyebrow when Solas looks at him. There’s a smirk on the elf's face; it’s smarmy, in a way Dorian likes. “However,” he says, far too cheerfully. “Pouring your excess energy into your barriers may take away from … what did we call it? Your _flashy_ style.”

Dorian tuts, both in realization and agreement. “Well, we couldn’t have that, could we?” he says in his most haughty Altus tone, which makes Solas chuckle lowly.

Dorian realizes he’s far too pleased with creating that sound (Solas does have a nice laugh, however), but it’s something he would have never experienced in the academy. His lecturers had always been serious, never up for a young Altus’s desire to have a little fun here and there with magic. Here though, Dorian is in his element.

“So, my good elf,” he jokes, “Are we going to start creating our own spells? Create a branch of magic here in Skyhold that will rival anything discovered in Tevinter? That’d be fun.”

Solas scoffs, turning back to his painting. “Hardly,” he mutters. “There was a similar spell already exists in elven magic. You’ll simply be rediscovering something already created by my people, as usual.”

Dorian’s grin falls as fast as his stomach. And there it is. It’s far kinder than Dorian deserves too—Solas is perhaps softening the blow, which Dorian would normally appreciate. It isn’t the first time Solas has brought this up—that all Tevinter magic stems from elven magic. His people didn’t discover it, no—they _stole_ it, like they stole everything else from the elves…

“Dorian.”

He looks back down at Solas. The elf looks pained. “My apologies,” he says, sounding tired. “That was… There were kinder ways to say that.”

Dorian stares down at Solas. At his ears; at the simple clothes that remind him of the elves at home. For once, he forces himself not to turn away. He forces himself to _accept_.

He’s discussing magical theory with an _elf_. He’s being taught highly advanced magic by an _elf_.

He’s _friends_ with an _elf_.

“But not uncalled for,” Dorian finally replies, and looks away.

There is a sigh. It isn’t one of disappointment (Dorian knows what those sound like). It sounds old.

“You are a smart man, Dorian,” Solas says gently. “A highly talented mage. You could do much with your skills, and with the title and position you carry.”

Dorian looks back down at him. Solas has resumed painting, and Dorian takes the moment for what it is. To think. To come to several conclusions. To just hold that painful and guilty feeling in his chest and try not to shy away from it.

“Well,” he manages eventually, swallowing to clear the lump in his throat. “I _did_ help invent time magic. Who knows what that could accomplish now?”

Solas glances up at him with a quirked eyebrow, and in his most sarcastic tone, mutters, “Try not to tear too large a hole in the fabric of reality this time, would you?”

That, Dorian thinks, is exactly what he’s going to do. Metaphorically, anyway… And maybe he’ll have fun with it too.


End file.
